


Shaky Hands

by MsChievous



Series: Whump/Inktober 2019 [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Serious Injuries, Whump, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 02:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20846255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsChievous/pseuds/MsChievous
Summary: Whumptober Day 1When Prompto and Gladio go on a routine hunt for spare parts, they find themselves face to face with more than they bargained for.





	Shaky Hands

**Author's Note:**

> hey, y'all!
> 
> Welcome to Ellay and MsC's palace of ficlets during the month of October! We're combining bits from both Whumptober and Inktober, so keep an eye out! There will also be a wide variety of fandoms so keep that in mind as well.

Prompto bites his lip as he hunkers down next Gladio in the truck bed. Cindy’s whistling some tune that’s lost to the wind as she makes her way down to the old weapons cache in hopes of finding some supplies for Lestallum. He and Gladio are there for protection - “from those big, scary varmints,” she said with that easy grin of hers, though he likes to think that they’re there to protect the daemons from  _ her _ .

He’s seen Cindy with a shotgun. He faced a giant mechanical worm the size of a village and would  _ still _ rather take that over her.

The truck rumbles to a halt, and Gladio jumps out, slapping the side of the trunk. “We’ll be right back when it’s all clear,” he says with a grin.

Cindy leans out of the window, “You’re too kind, sugar,” she says with her trademark drawl.

“See you soon!” Prompto calls back hopefully, which earns him a smile and a wink.

Gladio’s thick arm wraps around his shoulders and draws him toward the abandoned complex. “C’mon, pipsqueak, Lestallum’s waiting.”

Prompto huffs, but follows, pulling his gun from the Armiger, “Everyone’s a pipsqueak compared to you,” he mutters.

Gladio breathes out a laugh as he brings out his own weapon and starts to creep forward. “You ready?”

The blond shrugs and adjusts his grip. “As ready as I can be.”

* * *

Prompto staggers back, firing round after round into the Wall Daemon’s disgusting head. There weren’t supposed to be any super strong daemons here. The Glaives who scoped it out said that Gladio could have probably taken it on alone. If not for the precedence of 2-person minimums for purging missions, they probably would have sent the Shield alone.

Thank goodness for it, though. Gladio’s incredibly strong, sure, but even  _ he _ can’t take on a wall daemon alone. Heck, even together, it’s iffy. His shots seem to melt into the daemon’s skin and only serve to anger the thing.

Gritting his teeth, Prompto swapped his handgun for his sniper rifle. They need this daemon dead  _ now _ . Its power was drawing in more daemons that they just weren’t equipped to deal with. He needs a bit more distance so it couldn’t lash out at him, and then-

Gladio’s scream of pain sends ice-cold daggers into his heart, and he nearly drops his gun from his hands as the Shield goes flying past him. 

Panic clouds his brain for a second before he skitters back toward his friend. “Hey, big guy, you okay?” he manages, whipping around and firing a few shots at daemons that were getting a bit too close. His gun shakes in his grip and he grits his teeth, steadying it with his other hand.

After a couple of beats of silence, Prompto risks a glance down and freezes. Gladio’s chest is practically ripped open, a long gash cutting from just under his collarbone to the edge of his right ribs. 

The sight almost turns his stomach, but he- _ Gladio _ can’t afford that now. Instead, he jumps forward and grabs the bioblaster from the Armiger. Drastic times call for drastic actions. Steeling himself against the recoil, he sets the poisonous gas free, spraying in a wide arc to discourage the daemons from coming closer. It won’t last long, but he doesn’t need much time to get them out of there.

The machinery disappears into the ether as he leans down to pull Gladio over his shoulder. The weight is almost crushing, and the feeling of blood saturating his back scares him more than the realization that they could die here. 

A growl from close behind spurs him into action and he surges forward, one hand wrapped around Gladio’s legs, the other behind him, firing blind. 

He’s so slow with Gladio’s weight dangling off him. His training has paid off, he can tell, but it’s still- he’s still the weak link of the group, he can’t be weak. 

That becomes his mantra:  _ don’t be weak don’t be weak don’t be weak. _ It drives every step forward, even when his shoulder burns with the weight and every breath feels like sandpaper grating his throat. He just needs to get them both to the truck. Easy.

With every painful step, he feels his muscles straining, suffering against the weight pressing on him. The world seems to blur before his eyes as he bursts through the door into the plasmodium-filled air. Vaguely, he hears the sound of Cindy’s voice, pitched high in concern. His only thought is for the back of the flatbed truck that is his destination.

Growls follow him out, and he fires blindly again, relishing the sound of bullets into flesh. 

Finally,  _ finally _ , he collapses in the back of the truck, and he pulls Gladio’s weight safely back as the engine roars and the truck pitches back. 

He finally allows himself to lean back against the side of the trunk and process. He feels fine. His back and legs ache, but he’s fine, he needs to help Gladio. So he scoots over and scratches his head anxiously. They don’t have many healing items left, and Gladio would be so  _ upset  _ if they used one on him, but… but his skin is so pale and sallow, contrasting the blood weeping from his chest wound. 

Wiping sweaty palms on his coeurl-print jeans, he reaches into the Armiger with shaky hands and pulls out a potion. He  _ could _ go for an elixir, and he might have to, but…

Gritting his teeth, Prompto crushes the potion over Gladio’s wound and bites his lip as the magic knits the Shield’s skin together, leaving nothing but yet another scar on his already mottled chest.

There’s a strange hollow feeling in Prompto’s stomach as he watches the color slowly return to his friends’ flesh. The realization that any mission could be their last, it’s always been in the back of his mind, but now, he could only think of the body of one of his friends in those black bags that sometimes got brought back. He could only think of hanging up their dog tags with all the others as a somber reminder of their mortality.

Cindy doesn’t stop until they reach Lestallum, though he manages a weak thumbs up when she glances back in the rearview mirror.

It wasn’t the first close shave they’d gotten out of, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.


End file.
